Disclaimer: Everything mentioned belongs to someone else. Note) At the beginning of this fic. there's roughly 3 weeks of school left.
Our Lost Hero
Chapter 1
It was strange. They had made it through the Second War and all the horrors in it. They had made it through the various magical mishaps that happened when one gave children the means to use magic. They, as Gryffindors, had even survived Snape. But not even they, the Proud 8th Year of Hogwarts containing the War Heroes of the Wizarding World, could survive Neville Longbottom.
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6.
They had 6 classes left with the greasy bat. 6 agonizing class periods, which equaled 9 hours, or 3 double potions and 3 potions classes, left in the dark, dank dungeon that was haunted by the greasy bat and his disciples. This simple number 6 (they used this because it was smaller than 9) was the only thing that kept the returning Gryffindors from breaking.
It seemed that Snape too was aware of the diminishing number of days and seemed intent on cramming as much misery into the remaining hours as possible. So instead of Future Planning or Review (as 8th years they didn't have finals and N.E.W.T.S had passed), Snape had them brewing some of the foulest, hottest, strangest potions they had ever the displeasure of working on.
Today, they were working on a Re-Growth draught, that when brewed and used correctly would re-grow internal organs when applied to small amounts of the original tissue. However the problem was that if the original organ was still there you'd end up with a more organs than there were suppose to be. And that's just using the potion when it's brewed correctly. Brewed incorrectly could have give the user various side effects, anywhere from green skin to a serious case of death. Needless to say, everyone was extra tense trying to avoid any of the inevitable accidents that always seemed to happen.
But what everyone forgot to calculate into his or her plans was Neville.
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Two days later.
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Groaning, Hermione Granger attempted to sit up, but quickly gave up that plan for simply laying back down.
Okay, last time this happened I swore my next hangover would happen after a night of fun. I don't remember a night of fun. Actually, she frowned as she tried blocking out the light pouring in through the window, I don't remember anything. Wait, the windows are open. The windows are never opens; they're always closed 'cause Lavender always bitches when they aren't.
Struggling to remember what happened while trying not to puke whatever was bouncing in her stomach up, she slowly pulled herself up. Where was she? She looked around a moment. With a slight jerk that sent her head spinning, she realized the hospital wing, with the dividers up, at least around her. What had she done to end up in the hospital wing?
Slowly, images of oily smoke and coughing came back but before she could connect anything a harried Madame Pomfrey pulled back the divider, glanced in and saw she was awake. With a quick yell of " There's another one awake, Granger, number 14,"and no explanation, she started waving her wand in her right hand, pushing her back down onto the bed with her left hand, all while chanting in Latin.
" Try not to move,'' she said when she got to the end of, from what Hermione could translate out, a chant to measure the levels of something and was looking at the bright lights that had poured from the tired nurse's wand above her that resembled the northern lights.
" What happened?"
But Madame Pomfrey chose not to answer. After several more spells and light readings she pulled a clipboard from the foot of the bed, wrote down several things and muttered "I'll be back." Hermione watched her leave with a dazed expression. What's going on?